One Last Shot
by skygirl55
Summary: "Beckett's been kidnapped." "Yeah, and we have to find her." Caskett. AU post-47-Seconds-arc. Entry into Castle Pornado weekend (2 parts; pt 1 is rated T)
1. Chapter 1

**One Last Shot**

Beckett's been kidnapped; she's out there somewhere-and we have to find her. Caskett. AU post-47-Seconds-arc. 2-part Entry into the Castle Pornado weekend. Pt 1 is rated T

* * *

Sitting at his desk, elbows resting just in front of his keyboard, chin propped on his fist, Richard Castle let out an audible sigh. He'd worked hard—very hard—to create the final scene for Nikki and Rook in _Frozen Heat,_ but it still wasn't right. Something was just…off—and that something was probably him.

Castle was at a crossroads. Certainly not his first and doubtfully his last, but it was a crossroads nonetheless. Not only was he ending another book series, but he had finally walked away from his time as an amateur detective. As if all of that was not enough, his daughter would graduate from high school in a matter of days thus beginning a new chapter in her life. Per usual, everything seemed to happen at once.

Barely a week prior Castle had walked out of the Twelfth precinct for what he believed to be the final time. The universe, in its infinite wisdom, had given him one hell of a last case (Zombies! How awesome!), but it was still not great enough for him to stay. Nor was the mixture of hurt and confusion on his former partner's face during their final goodbye.

In truth, he hadn't had the guts to tell Beckett he was done for good. He told her he needed to take a break, finish his book, and clear his head. When she inquired as to when he'd be returning, he told her he wasn't sure. He wanted to tell her the truth; to say he couldn't be around her after the hurt she caused him, but he could not. Maybe that made him less of a man. Maybe it made him selfish. Maybe it made him a fool. Most likely, it was a combination of the three, but he knew getting over her would be hard enough; he didn't need to hear her say the words or, worse, try to make him feel better while breaking his heart at the same time.

No, instead he'd take the coward's way out. He'd dodge her phone calls assuming there were any. Pray he never ran into her in a Starbucks line—at least, not in the near future. They'd simply fade away from each other's lives; it was for the best.

Turning back to his novel, Castle scrolled up to the beginning of the final chapter, hoping re-reading what he had created so far would help him craft a more satisfying ending. He knew for certain he did not want to kill off Nikki or Rook like he had with Storm. Such an act didn't seem fair; it didn't seem right. Despite how she'd hurt him in the end, Castle could not actual blame Kate for her feelings. She had every right not to fall head over heels in love with him, but that didn't mean she had no feelings for him at all. Her feelings simply resided in the realm of friendship and he would respect that. Yet at the same time he could not give Rook and Nikki a happily ever after, not with his own heart presently held together with safety pins and tape. No, their ending had to be ambiguous, but it also had to be right.

Right.

What did that even mean anymore?

A moment later Castle was interrupted by the buzzing of his cell phone. He glanced down at the device resting just beside his laptop and saw the caller ID displaying Esposito's face. Huffing out a breath, he reached out and pressed the "decline" button.

When he unofficially terminated his partnership with Beckett, Castle had no intentions of ending his friendship with his male quasi-colleagues. He would still invite them to Knicks or Mets games. He would still let them borrow the Ferrari if they begged or flattered him enough. He didn't want to drop them completely from his life, but in that moment all he wanted to do was finish Nikki and Rook's final chapter.

Not thirty seconds after he declined the call, he saw a text message come in from Esposito and groaned before even reading it. Of all the times he would have welcomed a writing distraction—which was more or less eighty percent of the time he was writing—this was definitely not one of them. Maybe, he thought as he picked up the device, if he just answered the text the boys would leave him alone and he could put the final chapter to bed.

Swiping his phone to unlock it, Castle was able to read the text message in full.

 _This is an emergency! Call us back!_

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Emergency? What kind of emergency? Esposito was certainly not one to cry wolf, so Castle did not believe the "emergency" was of the "I need your Ferrari because…" variety. He also knew he would not be able to focus on his chapter until he knew what was going on, so he punched the call button next to Esposito's name a bit harder than necessary before holding the phone up to his ear.

"Finally!" Esposito answered gruffly.

Castle ignored this comment and instead asked impatiently, "What's your emergency?"

"Beckett's been kidnapped."

Castle nearly dropped the phone, but immediately decided he'd simply heard the detective incorrectly, because Beckett being kidnapped seemed highly unlikely if not borderline impossible. "What?"

"Jerry Tyson has her."

Castle immediately felt the sensation of icicles entering his bloodstream, freezing it in the process while also stabbing at his heart and guts. Jerry Tyson, also known as the Triple Killer, had vanished from before his eyes eighteen months earlier, but not before assaulting Ryan and leaving him tied to a chair. That night had haunted him ever since and now…Beckett.

Oh god! Beckett!

No, no, no; not this—never this! He needed to be apart from her in order to move on. In order to accept that she just wanted to be friends, because he knew that he could never move on while still remaining in her life; he loved her too deeply. Because of that love, he wanted the best for her. He wished her every happiness. He would have sooner died than wished any ill will on her—least of all Jerry Tyson!

 _God_.

"Castle?" Esposito asked when the writer had been silent well over thirty seconds.

Castle set his jaw and squeezed the phone a bit tighter. "I'll be right there."

* * *

"I just—I don't understand."

Castle exhaled as he turned his gaze towards Beckett's disappointingly empty desk. She wasn't sitting there tapping away at her keyboard or shuffling through paperwork. She wouldn't look up at him and say, "What do you want, Castle?" in a way that sounded annoyed but they both knew deep down was only a cover to hide the smile blossoming across her face at the sight of him. He wouldn't get to see that smile, or hear her laugh, and, god, it was so unfair.

In his mind, he'd envisioned returning to the Twelfth several dozen times, but none of those times were like this. In his imagined scenarios he'd greet Beckett and they'd share pleasantries. In one of the more far-fetched ones she would even kiss him, but she was never missing—gone. All he'd wanted to do was love her and have her love him in return. Worst of all he never believed his feelings to be unreciprocated. The way she smiled at him, the way she'd gently touch his arm—there was no way she hadn't felt the same at least some of that time, so what had happened?

He ached to know the answer, but even more so he ached for her to be there in front of him. He'd sacrifice his own closure just to have her safe—free from someone as dangerous as Jerry Tyson, but even that made no sense. Kate was one of the most street-smart and savvy people he knew. How the hell had he gotten to her?

"Neither do we." Ryan signed as he stepped up in front of the writer. "When she didn't show up for her shift this morning we called her; she didn't answer. You know how unlike her that is so Javi went to her place."

Castle turned to look at him. "Was it tossed?"

Esposito stood from where he sat at the edge of his desk. Walking over to them he said, "No. I doubt so much as a toothpick was out of place."

His brow wrinkled. "So then how'd you know she was missing?"

"Tyson called dispatch, asked to speak to you; they transferred him to Gates."

Rotating one hundred and eighty degrees, Castle gazed at the woman leaning against the doorframe of her office. She had been largely silent since his arrival five minutes earlier, merely watching him curiously. "What'd he say?"

"'If you ever want to see Kate Beckett alive again, let me speak to Richard Castle.'" She repeated, then added, "You must have quite a history with this gentleman."

Castle flatted his lips into an expression that was miles from a smile. "Something like that." Unfortunately, he and Tyson had been mixed up far more than he would have ever liked and now it appeared Kate was paying the price.

"My office—now." Gates commanded him and he obediently followed her into the office, shutting the door behind him.

"Sir, look, I know that-"

"Stop." Gates held up her hand to silence him then gestured for him to sit in front of her desk. He did so and she didn't speak again until she was seated as well. "I have a very delicate situation on my hands here, Mr. Castle. My lead detective is missing—kidnapped, presumably."

"I assure you I will do everything in my power to bring Beckett home safety." Review hours of video tape, spend exorbitant amounts of money, move an actual mountain—he'd do it all even were it not for his lingering romantic feelings for. Nearly four years as her partner had earned her a place in his family and he'd do whatever needed to be done for family.

She bobbed her head. "I know you will, which is why I need you to promise you're going to play by our rules."

"What do you mean?"

Clasping her hands together, she leaned forward in her seat, almost as though she were about to reveal a secret. "I mean that I am not an idiot, Mr. Castle. I've watched you and Detective Beckett interact with each other for nearly a year and I know there's more than meets the eye there."

Castle felt his cheeks flush as though he were a small child caught pilfering a sweet off his teacher's desk. Evidently Gate's picked up on his mild embarrassment, and she shook her head, continuing with, "It's fine—your prerogative—and I don't need to know any more about it, but what I need from you is confirmation that you will not go off on your own and try to play the knight in shining armor. We need to do this by the book and not let personal feelings get in our way."

"Understood." He could read between the lines enough to understand she was directly telling him not to go rogue—and he wouldn't…at least, not for a little while. They'd play by the NYPD's rules for now, but if he ever got the inkling that bureaucratic red tape was standing in the way of Beckett's safety that deal was off.

"Good. Now we-"

"Castle—sorry, Sir," Ryan apologized quickly when he poked his head in the office to interrupt them, "but it's him; Tyson's on the phone."

* * *

"Are you sure about this bro?"

Standing in the cool night air in front of quite possibly one of the most unsettling abandoned warehouses he'd ever seen, Castle glanced up at Esposito while adjusting the side Velcro on his Writer vest. It was 11:58 p.m., just before Tyson's midnight meet, and their nightmarish ordeal had been going on for a little more than ten hours.

After the initial phone call during which Tyson refused to tell him Beckett's location as vehemently as he refused to name a ransom price, Castle was stuck running all over the city doing Tyson's bidding in the hopes of keeping Beckett safe. He had managed to talk the killer-turned-kidnapper into sending a proof of life video, which of course was sent from a burner phone and was no good to use in determining their location, but at least he was able to see her tied to a chair looking angry but otherwise unscathed.

Finally, after hours of pointless time wasting, Tyson had agreed to meet and "settle things up." Gates had stepped in, clearly just annoyed about the charade as everyone else, and asked if Beckett would be returned to them during their arranged meet-up. Tyson was silent for almost thirty seconds before he said, "Yeah, if Castle did everything he was supposed to, you'll get your detective back," but of course no one was too inclined to believe him; they just had to wait and see.

Clearing his throat now that his vest was fastened, Castle faced Esposito and asked, "You mean going alone into the creepy abandoned building probably littered with booby traps created by a psychopath? No, not really, but what choice do I have? If this is what I have to do to get Beckett back, so be it."

He didn't care what happened in that warehouse; it had to be done. It didn't matter if he faced bodily harm himself—hell, he almost expected it—he would not be responsible for going against Tyson's wishes if that carried even the smallest possibility of bringing harm to the woman he cared about. If he acted even slightly outside of Tyson's maniacal plan and Beckett were to die because of it? He'd never be able to live with himself.

"We've got eyes on the building; you're not going to be completely alone."

Ryan clapped his hand on Castle's shoulder. "We got your back, man."

Castle nodded to both of them. "Thanks."

Walking away from the secure line of cop cars towards the building meant he had several hundred feet of exposure, but the writer turned hostage negotiator wasn't concerned. Unnerved, certainly, but he didn't expect Tyson to be in an upper floor window with a sniper's rifle; that wasn't his style. Tyson enjoyed the game itself far more than winning it. If he intended to kill Castle, it would be after he was able to see Beckett and perhaps listen to some sort of deranged manifesto from the serial killer. At least, that's what the writer was banking on.

Thanks to the NYPD surveillance team they'd arrived with, Castle knew from the heat signatures in the building that two figures resided on the second floor near the center of the building. Due to the fact that, per Tyson's rules, the NYPD had to keep their distance, that was the best intel they could gather, but it was better than nothing. At least Castle could be satisfied that Tyson did not have a hoard of goons waiting to kidnap him as well. Then again, he supposed he never would have actually thought that as a possibility; 3XK was a lone wolf.

As he opened the door to the warehouse, a loud metallic screeching could be heard and Castle involuntarily winced, half expecting a hoard of bats to fly out of the building. There were no lights inside, so he switched on the flashlight provided to him and swept the beam around the tight area. It appeared he had entered into some sort of stairwell alcove, because to the left he could see stairs going up, and to the right was a door presumably leading towards the interior of the first floor. Seeing as he knew there were two people on the second floor, Castle turned towards the stairs, but before he could take a step an echoing voice could be heard.

"I said to come alone."

Castle looked up, curious as to the source of the sound. He did not see any speakers affixed to the wall, but then again the hand-held flashlight did not do a spectacular job of illuminating his surroundings. "I am alone."

"By my count there are seven cruisers outside." Tyson's voice crackled as it echoed around the stairwell, but Castle was too determined to let his poorly executed Oz impression distract him from the ultimate goal: finding Beckett and assuring that she was brought to safety.

"Key word being outside. I'm here alone and unarmed like you asked."

"Go to the second floor."

Castle held the flashlight beam out in front of him as he ascended the stairs. He easily avoided some trash and debris, but was pleased to see light filtering in from the second floor when he turned the corner to go up the second half of the stairway. As it was bright enough for him to see, he switched off the flashlight and tucked it back into the pocket of his vest.

Walking through the halls following the construction lamps that had been set up, Castle remained intensely careful of every step he made; every placement of his foot. He was convinced tripwires or, hell, even landmines could exist somehow buried in the subfloor of the warehouse, but mostly all he saw was trash. He soon found himself weaving deeper and deeper into the building through a variety of halls, open spaces, and doorways where the door itself hung by only one of its hinges, until finally the construction lighting stopped and he lifted his head to gaze down the hall. There, a few hundred feet away, a woman sat in a chair. She had her back to him, turned maybe only fifteen degrees in his direction so he could see her hair and the crest of her forehead, but somehow he just knew it was her.

His heart fluttering with relief, Castle called out her name. "Beckett! Oh, Beckett thank-"

"That's close enough." Tyson's voice warned, though it still obviously came from some sort of loudspeaker or amplified system not from the room in which they stood.

Castle looked around in a fruitless attempt to find the villain, but with no avail. Speaking a bit louder than he normally would have, he took one step forward and said, "I just want to-"

"Not another inch, Castle, or I pull the trigger".

Trigger? Castle's brow wrinkled. As far as he could tell Beckett sat in the center of a room not in front of any walls or doorways. A light was on the floor in front of her. He couldn't see it, but he knew it had to be smaller than the construction lights he passed due to lack of illumination. It was entirely possible the light was only an upturned hand-held flashlight; just enough so that her silhouette could be seen. Tyson wasn't in the room with them, so what trigger could he possibly—

 _Oh_.

Castle's heart sunk when he caught sight of the tiny blinking red light under Beckett's chair. A receiver, he imagined, for what he could only assume was a bomb. So that was Tyson's play. Blow Beckett up in front of him and if he tried to intervene then Tyson would get a two-for-one-deal and be quite pleased with it, Castle imagined, but as he was a man who always had faith he believed there was still a chance they could both get away unscathed. Letting out a long, slow breath in hopes of regulating his heart rate, he took a step backwards from the woman tied to the chair.

"Ah—you see it now, don't you?"

"I just want to know if she's all right."

"She's fine, for now."

"I just—I just want to see her nod or something." He crouched down, trying to see if he could get a glimpse of Kate's face. Her head was upright, not slumped, which led him to believe she was alert and thus could hear him, but yet she made no attempt to move, which he found very odd.

"Not now. First, I want us to have a little chat, Castle. You see, last time we met, you put a pretty big damper on my plans."

"Sorry," he said reflexively, not really feeling any remorse at all. In fact, the only thing he felt bad about was letting Tyson walk out of that hotel room alive.

"I really don't think that you are, Castle." Tyson snarled through the still-crackling auditory system. "Don't you know how long it took me to plan that escape? Months and months but then you showed up and in an instant everything I'd worked for—everything—was gone."

"You still got away, Tyson," he said, a bit exhausted with the theatrics.

"But not like I'd wanted, not like I needed to. Yeah, I disappeared for a while, but it wasn't enough; it wasn't good enough. I had to make you suffer like I was suffering. At first, I thought about taking your daughter—cute little red-head, right? But kids aren't exactly my type."

Castle felt his stomach lurching in his gut at the thought of Tyson touching his daughter, making her suffer the way his other victims had. He his body began to tremble with anger. Tyson watching him—them—was sickening enough, but the fact that he'd actually considered…god! The thought was too horrible to imagine.

"So I kept watching you and you know what I saw? Her. Of course I knew who she was but I saw her through your eyes and then, well, the story practically writes itself, wouldn't you say?"

Castle felt an iron weight settle in his stomach as the realization hit him; this was all his fault. Yes, the argument could be made that he could not control the actions of a psychopath and that was true, but indirectly this was his fault. Had he not interfered with Tyson, had he not riled him up while they were in that hotel room, maybe they wouldn't be in that position. Maybe Beckett would be back at her apartment, asleep in her bed, safe, certainly not tied to a chair atop a bomb. She was merely an innocent victim; a pawn Tyson was using to torture his real victim—him.

Then why—why hadn't Tyson just taken him instead? They could have ended this with no others involved. Tyson could have kidnapped him directly from his apartment. If he had gotten to Beckett, the loft would have been a breeze. Then he could have had his little show and been done. This fight was between the two of them, no one else, and that's how it needed to end.

"So it's me you want; fine." Castle called out. "I'm here now, just let Beckett go and we'll end this."

"Don't you see, Castle? It's already over."

The explosion of the gunshots reverberating through the naked building sent Castle into a crouching position involuntarily. He ducked his head, brought his hands up to cover his face, and rounded his shoulders, as though such a stance would protect him from flesh-piercing bullets. Four shots rang out and then silence; nothing. No explosion, no shouting, no footsteps slamming against the concrete floor—just silence.

Castle opened his eyes and scanned down his body, knowing that the level of adrenaline he had coursing through him might have meant he did not feel any pain were he injured, but he saw no wounds or blood. Then, as a sickening thought hit him, he lifted his head and the sight before him sent him to his knees.

"Beckett! No! No! God…no."

The woman before him was no longer upright in her chair, but slumped down, her head dangling back in an unnatural position. No more than several seconds later the silence was interrupted by the soft patting of liquid as it came in contact with the metal legs of the chair and the floor. Only it wasn't just any liquid—it was blood. Beckett's blood.

God, oh god; how had it come to this?

Violent sobs began to stutter in his chest, his vision now blurred by tears as he gazed at the contorted body of the woman he loved. Four gunshots, one to her head judging by its position. Even a man with a deep rooted sense of faith and good in the universe could see no possible window of survival given the grave injuries, which meant only one thing: she was gone.

Beckett was gone.

Castle's chin dropped to his chest as the realization settled on him, crushing his shoulders and threatening to obliterate him all together. Kate was gone; gone forever. He would never again see her smile or gaze upon the light sparkling in her eyes. He never even had the chance to say goodbye to her properly, tell her how much he still cared and always would. She had hurt him, but it wasn't fair of him to judge her too much for that, to let that one moment taint all the positive ones, because there had been so many.

God, he had loved her. He'd loved her arguably more than he'd loved any woman before. She'd consumed him, body and soul, shown him how to be a better man, a man he never thought possible, but it was—all because of her. It didn't matter that she didn't want to be with him romantically. If that wouldn't make her happy, he didn't want it either. He wanted her to find someone that made her heart soar like his did every time he looked at her. She'd suffered so much in her life that she deserved a happy ending and now…now she'd never have the chance. And it was all his fault.

"Beckett…" He sniffled out her name lifting his head once more to see the blood pooling more heavily beneath the hands that hung down limp. "I'm so sorry, Beckett…"

His body shivered at the viciousness of the emotions roiling in his gut. He felt as though he was being split in two: half of him being pulled towards a soul-crushing devastation that would leave him bed-bound for weeks, and half towards a fury like he'd never known before, a fiery rage within himself he would not previously thought possible.

For that moment, the fury began to win. He balled his fists until they shook and bit back the bile in his throat, vowing then and there to make Jerry Tyson pay for what he'd done. In her life Kate Beckett wanted nothing more than to seek justice for the victims delivered to her and with her death he felt that torch had been passed to him. He vowed then and there not to rest until her death had been avenged, even if he had to do so with his bare hands. The boys could drag him away in cuffs at Gate's instruction and he could spend all of his remaining days behind bars, but that didn't matter. Jerry Tyson had to pay for stealing away the life of the woman he loved.

"Castle! Castle!"

The writer could hear the duo of male detectives shouting to him, presumably forced to abandon their plan to stay outside once they heard gunshots, but he could not respond. He was still frozen on the ground; a statue.

"Castle! Oh—he's over here Ryan! Castle, man are you—oh god. Jesus."

He heard the tone of Esposito's voice change and assumed he'd seen the body. When Ryan entered the room and exclaimed similarly horrified sentiments, Castle finally managed. "He shot her. I didn't even see him. He was talking through a speaker or…I…" His voice was lost again as grief took over.

Castle was distantly aware of a hand on his shoulder and shuffling footsteps, completely unaware of how long he sat, but then realized it must not have been very long when he heard Esposito proclaim, "Wait—this isn't Beckett!"

Castle's head popped up in shock as he gazed towards the collapsed woman. "What?" Could…could it be? Was that even possible?

"It's not her." Esposito said with a level of confidence that had Castle pushing himself to a standing position and taking a few shaky steps forward. He let out an audible gasp when he was close enough to see that Esposito was indeed correct. Even with the bullet piercing her forehead, the rest of the woman's face was intact enough to see plainly that this was not Beckett. She was, he had to admit, very similar in many ways, but mercifully not the woman they all cared for.

"I don't…oh god…"

"She must have been some sort of decoy." Espo concluded.

Castle turned away from the body as he felt his stomach lurch in his gut. Thank god he had not eaten for over twelve hours or he surely would have vomited from the shock. He felt a gentle hand on his back and heard Ryan ask if he was okay. He swallowed hard and took in a few breaths through his nose before nodding in confirmation that he was. Then, he turned back to face the detectives and the SWAT team now pouring into the building.

"I bet Tyson was never even here—at least, not when we were; he was probably long gone."

"Did he say anything to you? Anything that could help us?" Ryan asked.

"Not really, no. I thought he made it clear this was his end game, but evidently not."

"So she's still out there somewhere…"

"Yeah," Castle said, as grave as ever, "and we have to find her."

* * *

Part 2-the M rated part-will be posted this weekend.

Thanks to Lou for helping with the title!


	2. Chapter 2

Sitting in his regular chair beside Kate's desk, Castle cradled his fourth cup of coffee since returning from the abandoned warehouse. Though it was well into the early morning, the boys had known better than to suggest that he go home. Gates had tried to talk him into it, but naturally he refused. He wouldn't be getting a second of rest until Beckett was returned safely; he wouldn't lose her again.

By that point shortly after eight a.m. they knew barely more than they had the night before. Tyson had not been in contact again, so they'd been exhausting their resources trying to find him, but per usual the serial killer was too clever for them. There was no sign of him on any camera footage from around Kate's apartment—assuming he'd even taken her from there—and there was nothing from the warehouse, either. Though they never spoke it aloud, Castle could see the phase 'dead end' practically written on Ryan and Esposito's foreheads and he hated it. The feeling of losing Kate was still so raw within him that he didn't think he could survive it a second time.

Castle took another gulp from his coffee mug, bringing it down to the dregs. Just as he was contemplating a fifth cup, a soft, and almost angelic-like sound hit his ears and he dropped the mug back onto the desk.

"Castle?"

He popped up out of his seat when he saw the woman standing just a few feet from her. He would have thought the prior day to have been merely a horrifying hallucination, as if she had always been right there at her desk, were it not for the fact that she was somewhat strangely dressed. Judging from the way she looked, dressed in a navy blue NYPD t-shirt and pink cotton pants, he presumed her to be dressed in her sleeping attire from two nights prior. Already concerned for her wellbeing, he scanned her face and exposed arms but saw no obvious damage. "B-Beckett?" he questioned, almost afraid to believe she was real. When she smiled gently at him, he felt as though his heart exploded. "Beckett! Oh god!"

Unable to fight the urge he plowed forward, nearly tackling her where she stood as he locked his arms around her body. She took a half step back to balance herself against the force of his hug before her hands lightly touched his waist. He hugged her even tighter, burying his face into her hair and breathing in the faint cherry scent of her shampoo, completely forgetting that they were still actually in the middle of the precinct until he heard Ryan and Esposito calling out for their partner.

Though Castle had no desire to let go, he reluctantly released her from his grasp and stepped aside so that she could greet both partners with quick one-armed hugs. As she slid away from Espo, Gates exited her office with a rather shocked expression. "Detective Beckett. I must say I'm relieved, but also very confused."

Kate let out a grunt under her breath. "That makes two of us. He let me go."

"He just let you go?" Espo asked.

"Well no," she backpedaled. "He tied up my wrists and ankles and then rolled me out of a very slow moving van. Restraints were loose enough for me to get free."

"Where was this?"

"Alley about six blocks away. I can show you where, but I doubt you'll be able to find him."

"He didn't hurt you? How did he take you?" Ryan asked.

"Chloroform. He must have been hiding under my bed or something; he got me after I was already lying down. When I woke up I was in a windowless room tied to a chair—subterranean, I'm guessing. It had to have been…I don't know—a ten or twelve minute drive from where he dropped me off, but that's about all I can tell you. Not that it matters—I'm sure he's long gone by now." She concluded, folding her arms over her chest.

Gates and the male detectives continued to ask her questions for another few minutes before Gates dispatched Ryan to start scouring security videos and Esposito to gather up a team to canvass. Only once they were left alone did Castle step forward and speak her name softly. "Kate – are you sure you're okay? What about when you fell out of the van?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine, Castle, you don't…" She let her voice drift off as she glanced up and down his body then when her eyes settled back on his face her brow wrinkled. "Have you been up all night?"

"Ye-yeah, of course I…I didn't…"

"You should go home, get some rest." Her tone was not impatient, but she was clearly dismissing him. To even further indicate that she believed their conversation was over, she began rummaging through her bottom desk drawer, presumably for the spare set of clothing she kept there.

Despite her actions, Castle was reluctant to leave. He was afraid to walk away only to have Tyson reappear and inflict more damage. Actually, the more than he thought about it, he did not want her to leave his sight until Jerry Tyson was once again behind bars, though he very much doubted she would agree to that arrangement. Still, with the vision of the body he thought was hers so vivid in his mind, he could not bring himself to simply walk away. "I…I can stay. I mean, if Tyson's still out there then-"

"Castle, really." She stood upright again, bundle of clothes tucked in her left arm, and knocked the drawer shut with her shin. "You don't have to stay. I mean, you left right?"

"But I-"

"I'm fine, Castle; no harm done." She smiled reassuringly at him.

"But…there's things…I'd like… we should…I don't…" He shook his head and brought a hand up to rub his eyes when he could not force a coherent sentence out of his mouth.

Her hand landed on his bicep and she gave it a squeeze. "Castle, you're exhausted. Go home and get some sleep. I'll call you with an update later, okay?"

"Yes please—please call me!" he said a bit more aggressively than was actually necessary.

She appeared amused if not slightly confused. "I will…go rest, Castle, and don't worry about Tyson; we'll find him."

* * *

Castle was standing in his kitchen, staring absentmindedly out across his living space when he heard the knock at the door. When he'd arrived home, he'd done as Kate suggested and tried to nap. His body certainly felt weary enough to sleep, but his mind raced, concocting dozens of horrible scenarios, each more disturbing than the one before it. Though he dozed off initially, he startled himself awake twice thinking he'd heard the sound of Tyson breaking in to his bedroom even though he knew that to be nearly impossible. Then again, he probably would have said the same thing about Beckett's apartment, and look how that turned out.

Ever since getting up he'd wandered around aimlessly. He knew he didn't have the focus level needed to work on _Frozen Heat_ so he'd walked to the closest store and purchased ingredients to make dinner. When he arrived back the task of cooking seemed to arduous, so instead he pulled out some takeout menus, but even they didn't seem appealing. He'd sat down to watch television and evidently fallen asleep, because he woke up and realized it was after five p.m. That had been nearly an hour earlier, but he hadn't done much since. Now it appeared his path to dinner would be interrupted again by whoever was at his apartment door.

Upon gazing out of the peephole, Castle instantly forgot about his empty belly and quickly unlocked the door to reveal his partner—er, former partner? Well, their status was up in the air at the moment, but perhaps whatever conversation they were about to have would clarify it.

"Beckett—hi."

She offered a small smile. "I know I said I'd call, but is this-"

"Yes please, please come in." He stepped aside so she could enter the apartment and then he shut the door behind her before asking quickly, "Did you find him? Tyson? Or did something else happen?"

She shook her head and gave him a disappointed expression. "No, no Tyson's in the wind; there's no trace of him."

He frowned though he could not say he was entirely shocked.

"We'll get him, Castle. I can't tell you when or how, but I promise you we'll get him."

"Yeah." He grunted while thinking to himself, _but before he hurts many more people_? Of course there was no way to know that or stop it, but he desperately hoped Tyson would just disappear off to an island somewhere, alone and away from people he could hurt. Such a thought was not at all realistic, but it was what he needed to think for the moment.

"So, um, did you rest at all?"

He sighed and raked his fingers back through his hair. "Um, at little I guess. I just… I can't turn off my mind. I just keep…I just keep thinking of everything—going back to the first day we met him—trying to see if there was a clue, something we missed, but…"

She nodded as though she understood his struggles, but said nothing. Instead, she took two steps further into the apartment and gazed around. Turning back to him she asked, "Is Alexis here? Or your mother?"

"No."

"That's probably good; we need to talk about some things." Shen then led the way to the office where they sat at opposite ends of the love seat in there. She tucked her leg underneath her as she sat and gazed at him steadily. "You know why he took me, don't you Castle?"

"To torture me."

She nodded. "That's precisely it—he just wanted to torture you. I don't think he ever had intentions to hurt me. It was all part of his…game."

A mirthless laugh escaped the writer's lips. "Well then I guess he won again."

"He's really fixated on you, Castle; it's unsettling."

Castle skimmed his hand across his lower jaw as he considered that notion. It didn't shock him, certainly. Tyson had made it very clear that in their game of cat-and-mouse he viewed himself to be the feline. And of course the last thing he wanted was to be the fixation of a serial killer's obsession—that was not a favorable position for anyone—yet there was nothing he could do about it. He could only hope that day's game was enough to even the playing field and Tyson would simply disappear without a trace—even if it meant they wouldn't be able to put him back behind bars for his multitude of crimes.

"I'm sorry that you…that you had to be collateral damage; I'd never want you to be hurt because of me."

She pressed her lips together tightly and wore a peculiar expression for a moment, and then she said, "You know, I didn't tell Gates everything during my debrief today."

Castle's eyes flared wide as a horrifying thought crossed into his mind. "Did he…did he hurt you, Kate?"

She shook her head. "No, no; nothing like that. He…he had a TV feed on that warehouse you went to and he let me watch the moment when he killed that poor woman you thought was me."

"He…" Castle began when his brain began moving too quickly for his mouth to keep up. A video feed on the warehouse? The blinking red light beneath the chair! It wasn't the reception device on a bomb; it was the indicator light that a camera was recording! That's why the SWAT team hadn't been overly concerned when they stormed the building, but he hadn't notice; he'd been too busy trying not to vomit.

"I saw it—all of it—and I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

Castle raised his head to meet her gaze, kind and sympathetic. He felt his skin prickle with discomfort as he was transported back to that moment in his mind. The moment where he'd wished he'd faced the barrage of bullets instead of she; the moment he thought he'd never see her alive again. "I really thought you died, Beckett," he rasped out.

She reached out her hand and placed it over one of his, touching him for the first time since he'd walked out of the precinct—and her life. "I know."

They sat in silence for the better part of a minute as Castle gazed at her. In that brief few minute span of time during which he thought she was dead, Castle was too stunned by his grief to think of anything but the visceral reaction he was having. Later, as they drove back to the precinct, he made a silent promise to himself that when Kate was safely returned to him they would have an open and honest conversation even if it was the last they would ever have. The duration of their partnership was veiled in so many implications and not outright statements, only blips of truth and not full honesty. He felt it was only right they laid everything out on the table so that there would be no regrets; they owed each other that much, and it seemed that moment was as good as any.

"When I…when I thought that you died I thought of dozens of different things, like the beautiful, wonderful, long life that you deserved and now wouldn't get. That Tyson had stolen your happy ending from you and it made me so angry because that's what I want for you—for you to be happy, but selfishly I thought of other things—my own happiness, I suppose, but more than that: my own closure. I promised myself that I would ask this and I know you've had a rough two days so I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but I just want to know."

She tilted her head to the side and gazed at him, curious but a little bit guarded. "What are you talking about, Castle?"

He took in a deep breath and held it for a few seconds, before asking, "Why didn't you just tell me you didn't feel the same?"

Her expression turned into one of genuine confusion. "About what?"

His heart stuttered and told him not to say the words, but he had to; he didn't have a choice. "That you didn't love me, or didn't want me to love you or-"

"What are you talking about?"

Her confusion persisted so he was forced to be specific. "You remembered what I said to you the day you were shot but-"

"Oh, Castle." She breathed in sharply and stood quickly from the couch, pacing a small circle in front of where he sat before stopping in front of him and raking her hands through her hair. "No—no, no, no."

He stood as well, placing himself nearly toe-to-toe with her. "'No' what? You said you remembered, I heard-"

"In interrogation…yeah." She cut him off with a note of self-loathing. Brushing her hand over her mouth she looked for a moment as though she would be ill, but then she shook her head and looked at him directly. "God, Castle—that's not. I didn't… I know hiding the truth from you was wrong, but it wasn't for the reasons you think."

"What do you mean?"

"I was scared—scared because I felt the same."

He took a step back from her as his mind began to race once more. Because she felt the same? Did that—oh god—could that possibly mean that she loved him too? He could hardly believe that to be the truth, not when he'd spent the prior two months thinking the exact opposite, but if that was the case, what in the hell had happened over the prior year of their lives? And why would she be afraid? If she didn't think he felt the same, sure, but she knew that he did.

"I don't understand. Why would that scare you?"

She folded her arms over her chest. "Don't you remember what we talked about on the swings after your book signing? I wasn't ready."

He pressed his lips together tightly. Yes, he did remember that conversation. At the time, he'd translated it to 'Kate Beckett wants to be with you' and silently agreed to wait as long as she needed, but in the wake of finding out the truth he figured his interpretation had been incorrect. If it was correct, why hadn't she just told him more and alleviated all confusion? "You could have said that while also not lying to me, Beckett."

She dropped her chin to her chest. "I know that. I'm sorry. It was wrong to lie and I'm very sorry that you were hurt by it; I promise that wasn't my intention."

Standing there, he considered her for a moment. Yes, he could have been angry that she hid her feelings from him, but he was also doing so with the luxury of hindsight. She had been afraid in the moment and, given what he knew about his partner, she was not one to overtly display emotions. She'd probably been too terrified to be honest and he supposed in the interest of building a future together he could forgive her for that.

"So…where does that leave us now?"

She looked up at him tentatively. "Well I…I kind of thought you'd moved on until I saw that video feed."

"Move—moved on!?" He spluttered, barely knowing the meaning of the phrase. By that point, despite his anger, he had barely crossed into the 'living day to day while tolerating the searing pain in his heart' phase.

"Well, yeah with Jacinda or…whoever else."

Jacinda? Who the—oh, Jesus, the flight attended…right. Shit, he was an idiot. "No, no that wasn't..." he shook his head and wiped his hand across his mouth. "That was nothing—just me acting like a fool after being hurt." Truly, it could not even have been considered a fling. He simply liked the attention she'd been giving him in the wake of his heartache from Kate, but in reality it would have taken him months to truly be over Kate Beckett; his feelings ran too deep.

A tentatively hopeful expression crossed her face. "So you still…?"

"Yeah," he said easily, taking a step towards her. Oh yes, he still loved her even more so in the wake of knowing what it felt like to lose her. "And you…?"

"Yeah."

He took another step towards her. "And you're not dead."

"Definitely not."

His heart feeling like it was about to beat right out of his ribcage, Castle stepped close enough to bracket her waist with his hands. He gazed down at her for a moment, taking in the fact that she was alive and had never appeared more gorgeous, before saying, "I'm going to kiss you now," and doing exactly that.

Castle felt Kate's arms encircle his neck as her lips crushed against his. He pulled her body closer as he kissed her again and again. His mind was focused on the heat of her mouth and the softness of her body in his arms, which was good, because if he considered that in the prior twenty-four hours he'd gone from thinking she had no romantic feelings for him to thinking she was dead to knowing that she loved him too his brain might have imploded.

After dusting a few kisses across her bottom lip he drew back enough to gaze into her eyes, humming out, "Mm Kate…how, ah, how slow do you want to take this?" As far as he was concerned, he could strip them both naked and make love to her then and there, but if she wanted to wait, they would (but, god, did he hope she didn't…)

She grinned and lowered her hands from behind his neck to the flat plane of his chest where she undid one of the buttons on his dress shirt. "Well, you did watch me die today…"

"You did almost die." He clarified. If Tyson had wanted to, he would not have thought twice about putting the real Kate in that chair and drilling her body with bullets.

She popped open another button. "I know."

"Kate." He sighed, dropping his forehead to hers and skimming his hands down over her ass.

A soft whimper escaped her lips and she told him, "I want this; I want you." He needed no more confirmation.

In one swift motion he bent his knees and secured his forearms under her backside so he could lift her up and carry her the ten steps it took to reach his bedroom. He set her down beside the bed, caught a glimpse of the wild and sexy look in her eyes, and practically growled in anticipation. "God, Kate." He sighed out before pulling her back in his arms and covering her mouth with his. She parted her lips and let his tongue sweep inside and he sent out a silent prayer, never more thankful that she was alive, because life wasn't worth living unless it was this one—the one with her.

Within a few minutes she'd rid of him of his shirt and was already working the button and zipper on his jeans when he tried to return the favor. His hands grappled with the double button on her skinny jeans for several moments before he stepped back and cursed. Somehow all the stress and adrenaline of the day had settled in his hands and he couldn't stop them from trembling. He shook them out, and closed his eyes, trying to take a calming breath, but in his mind he saw her—well, the woman he thought to be her—slumped over in a chair, blood dripping from her every wound. The romantic mood temporarily dampened, he sat heavy on the bed and apologized.

She stood beside him and dusted her fingers through the hair at his forehead. "What is it?"

"I just…if I let my mind drift I can so easily go back to that moment I opened my eyes and saw you dead."

She nudged her way between his legs, standing in front of him with her knees against the mattress. She combed her fingers back through his hair until they joined at the base of his neck. "I'm right here, Castle," she said, just barely above a whisper.

"I know," he said, understanding this concept, but still his body still shivered at the thought of just how close he'd come to losing her.

She brushed her lips over his forehead, cradling his head to her breast for a few moments, not saying anything, merely letting him hold her close as she gently grazed her fingertips against his scalp.

Once he'd pushed all thoughts of that morning's horror from his mind, Castle lifted his head, gave her a small smile, and then began returning the favor of removing her shirt. He lifted his hands, popping each button at a slower-than-necessary pace, grazing his fingers across the newly exposed flesh with each lower button. Finally, with her shirt completely open to him he brought her body towards his face, cradling her waist as he lavished her belly with kisses and small nips of his teeth, each gasp and moan that escaped her lips urging him on.

Castle swirled his tongue around the outside edge of her belly button before lazily dragging it down almost to the top edge of her jeans before pausing to undo both buttons, the remaining light tremble in his fingers now for an entirely different reason; he felt as though he were literally at the edge of heaven's gates.

After undoing the zipper as well, he helped her shimmy the tight jeans off her hips and waited patiently while she stepped out of them. He reached out his hands, eager for her to come close enough for him to once again paint her flesh with his lips, but she surprised him by hopping up on the bed beside him and slinging one leg over his hips so she could sit in his lap facing him. There, she gripped his cheeks with both hands and kissed him once more, which he had absolutely no complaints about.

As Kate kissed him and occasionally rolled her hips against his lap, further stirring the sensations in his groin, Castle felt as though he could hardly breathe from the feeling of joy and elation crushing him from the inside out. This was it—the moment he'd been dreaming of through nearly four years of partnership—only it wasn't simply the end to years' worth of sexual tension, but the beginning of something—something incredible.

Castle's hands skimmed the expanse of Kate's back while his lips moved from her lips to her throat where he latched on to her pulse point until she gasped out and brought both her hands up to cradle the back of his head. He kissed his way down to her collar bone before lifting his gaze and staring into her eyes, now swirling with chocolate brown lust, with admiration. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this."

A breathy laugh escaped her lips as she rolled her hips against him once more. A gasp escaped his lips when he realized he could feel the searing heat from her centre even through his jeans. She arched over him and pressed a sloppy kiss to his lips. When pulling back, she snagged his bottom lip between her teeth, giving it a little tug, before breathing out, "Probably about as long as I have."

"Probably." He growled before flipping them over so he could kiss his way down her throat, over her collar bones, and down to the valley of her breasts. In this position, he undid the clasp of her bra with one skillful flick of his hand and pulled the item from her body. He barely took one second to gaze at her petite breasts before leaning down and closing his mouth over the right nipple, swirling his tongue over the tip as she whimpered and writhed beneath him.

"Oh…oh Rick…" She moaned out, sending all the remaining blood in his brain on a southward trajectory at the use of his first name. God, he could hardly stand it; he wanted her so much.

While paying equally deserved attention to her other breast, Castle skimmed his hand down her back until it dipped beneath the waistband of her panties. He gave her cheeks a solid squeeze before creeping the item down over her hips until it was low enough for her to kick away. He then moved his hand to the juncture in her legs and moaned out, "Fuck, Kate," when his fingers were instantly slick with her wetness. God, he wanted to taste her, make her cry out his name by using only his mouth, but in that moment he just wanted—no, needed—to be inside her.

He reluctantly pushed himself off the bed so he could divest himself of his jeans and boxers, which was a challenge given how hard his erection was, but he managed. Before joining her on the sheets once more, he instinctively reached out for the bedside table draw where he kept his condom supply, but Kate, evidently recognizing the action, said, "No—you don't have to for me, I mean."

He glanced up with the foil packet trapped between his fingers. "You sure?" When she nodded, he dropped the item back into the drawer and then knelt down on the bed, intent to stretch out beside her, but he saw her expression now clouded with uncertainty. Thinking it had to do with their protection situation, he sat up and reached towards the drawer again. "Seriously, I can-"

"No." She reached out and caught his arm with her slender fingers and then shook her head. "It's not that."

His brow wrinkled, concerned that she was changing her mind now that they were both completely naked. "Then what is it?" he asked with a soft tone, wanting to make sure she was as confident about what they were about to do as he was.

She shook her head, almost as though she was not going to confess her inner thoughts, but then she looked up at him, her eyes a bit wide, and said, "I was thinking about the last two months and…and I know that you leaving this time was completely my fault, because of how I made you feel but I…I was just…"

"Kate." He sighed out, skimming his hand down her arm. Somehow he understood that she needed confirmation, she needed assurance that this wasn't a fling fueled by a life-or-death situation. That this wasn't something that would be pushed under the rug and ignored like their first kiss had been. He absolutely did not want that and hand no problem confirming it. "I'm in this—one hundred percent. Aren't you?" She smiled softly and bobbed her head; he grinned. "Good then how about we both promise each other – no more secrets, no more missed opportunities. Just us."

"Just us," she echoed, skimming her hand down his chest and over his belly.

"Yeah."

"Partners."

"Ye—Jesus." He cursed when her slender hand wrapped around his length. She chuckled and lowered her lips to the underside of his jaw, where she continued to kiss him and stroke him as they tumbled back against the mattress.

Castle shifted so that he lay on his back, his hand gently resting at the base of Kate's neck while she kissed her way down his torso. As she caressed him and made him feel amazing, wonderful things, he could not help but think the horrors of that morning had been worth it to have Kate Beckett in bed with him at that moment, both of them naked, both of them—

"Wha—ah!" Castle let out a half choke, half gasp of a noise when suddenly Kate suddenly stopped kissing and caressing him, slung one leg over his thighs and then sat on them, just inches in front of his manhood. She combed her hair back from her face, shook it out, and then gazed down at him with a searing heat. The writer swallowed hard and instantly became convinced he was going to die while experiencing one of his own sexual fantasies.

"Is this okay?" she asked softly.

"Wha—I…yeah Wait—hold on." He pushed himself up and she moved off him so he could rearrange into a seated position with his back against the pillows at the headboard. As much as he wanted to lay back and watch Kate ride him until they cried out each other's names, he wanted to be closer to her their first time together; it only seemed right.

When she straddled him again, he looped his arm around her back and cradled her body against his, both of them sharing a soft smile. "Better?"

"Yeah, don't you think?"

She merely nodded before reaching down between them and guiding him into her while she sunk down onto his full length.

The writer's jaw dropped and he let out several unintelligible noises before grunting, "God, Kate you feel—shit."

She leaned forward and gave him a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss before rolling her hips against him unevenly a few times until they found their rhythm. She threaded her fingers through the hair at the base of his neck while he brought his mouth down to the hollow of her throat and held her close as their bodies moved together. God, she was amazing; they were amazing. Even in his wildest dreams he didn't anticipate this but—god—they were; it was perfect.

The more Kate moved against him the more Castle's breathing became heavy and erratic. She began to whimper and mew, calling out his name several times softly before throwing back her head and groaning it loudly just a second before he felt her body contracting around his. Fuck, she was remarkable, and he was so close behind her, but he wanted—needed—more.

With his arms around her back it was easy for him to flip her to the side and pin her beneath him as his hips jerked a few final thrusts before he met his release and cried out, barely keeping himself propped up on his forearms so that he didn't crush her. She brought her legs up to lock around his waist and pulled his body flush against hers while she skimmed her fingers through his hair and then pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Coming down from his high, Castle lifted his head and gazed down at her. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips slightly parted, but she looked at him with more adoration than he'd ever seen before and he instantly fell in love with her all over again. This was it; the final "first time" of his life—he was certain of it—and one hell of a first time it had been. Though he knew they would make love thousands of times in the future, he also believed that time would be one he remembered the most. Four years had been well worth the wait.

"Kate." He sighed, wrapping his arms around her body so that he could roll them both onto their sides. She cuddled against him, curing her body around his and threading their legs together. "You're incredible."

He could feel the rumble of laughter in her chest more than he could hear it. She skimmed her fingers over his ribcage and pressed a kiss against his collar bone. "You're not so bad yourself, Castle."

He snuggled against her and they lay together for several moments before he lifted his head and said, "Promise me something? That you won't get yourself kidnapped and fake shot again? I really don't think I could take it."

"Only if you promise the same."

"Deal." He lifted his head enough to kiss her, but then when he lowered it again, she remained in a position to gaze down at him rather than resting her head on her chest. Her eyes searched his face for several second before she said, "We're going to be okay, aren't we?"

As he thought her uncertainty to be unfounded, he merely smiled at her. "Are you kidding me? We're going to be extraordinary."

* * *

 **Thank you for reading!**

As many of you picked up on, this "prompt" of my own making was what if the "kate gets shot" part of Resurrection/Reckoning took place during the 47-seconds-arc :)


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